


For that Devious Dance Between You and Me

by hypnoshatesme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU No Fears, Arguing, Arson, Attempt at Humor, Bad Puns, Bathing/Washing, Blood, Burns, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Gerry an arsonist, Gerry is having the time of his life, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Michael is an axe murderer, Michael is very angry, Murder, Puns & Word Play, a little bit at least, i don't think the violence is that graphic tbh, kind of, sooort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: Two people with unconventional hobbies keep running into each other. Truly infuriating.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 28
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Context for this is that I can't spell, but sometimes I can't spell at the right people and 10min later I have a whole au.

Gerry watched the flames take and grow and  _ burn _ . There was nothing quite as satisfying as seeing all the effort pay off, standing just close enough to feel the heat of the fire, heart still racing with the rush of starting it, preparing everything carefully so it would work out perfectly. There was a satisfied grin on his lips as the flames took over. The house was isolated, Gerry didn’t have to worry about neighbours. He could enjoy tonight, indulge a little longer than usual. A rare treat, but a treat nonetheless.

When the door of the house crashed open and a figure stumbled out, Gerry’s grin turned to a frown. He generally didn’t care if anyone escaped, he was in it for the burning part, but if somebody escaped and saw him, well, that was another matter. And today specifically he could have done with no interruption to his moment of serenity. It was impressive how quickly one’s mood could be soured, Gerry thought, hand going to the knife in his back pocket.

He didn’t draw it, though, not yet. He was still far enough away from the person, but something about them seemed off. It wasn’t the first time Gerry was there to see somebody escape, but this one, despite coughing as they usually do, seemed to lack the usual demeanour of disoriented panic, of fear. The axe tightly grasped in one hand was also confusing. And was that blood? Gerry was still squinting at the figure when their - his? - eyes fell on him. Even in the awkward lights of the flames behind him, Gerry could tell he was  _ pissed _ .

He approached, long legs closing the distance between them in quick, angry steps. Gerry was too surprised to move. Usually, if he was spotted people ran  _ away _ , not towards him. 

“You! Did you do this?”

His voice was a little raspy from the smoke, but he sounded absolutely furious and there was definitely blood on his face and it didn’t look to be his own. Gerry grinned. “And what if I did?”

“Are you crazy?!”

Gerry raised an eyebrow and took the heavily breathing, lanky blond in. His clothes were inconspicuous enough, if it weren’t for the bloodstains matching the ones on his round face. The face that still looked incredibly pissed as he glared down at Gerry, eyes wild, but not necessarily only with rage if the bloodied axe in his left hand was anything to go by. His blond curls had probably been in a neat ponytail at some point during the night, but it seemed to be half-undone by now, stray strands going everywhere, some sticking to his sweat- and blood streaked face. Gerry was fairly sure that hadn’t happened from him escaping the burning house. But it wasn’t a bad look on him. In fact, it was a  _ very good _ look. 

Gerry was well aware of the axe - those arms did not look strong enough to hold it so casually - when he shot back, “Look who’s talking.”

He grit his teeth, and Gerry saw the grip around the axe tightening and got ready to jump out of the way. Not yet, though, Gerry was still enjoying the view. He wondered if the guy looked half as hot in daylight and without murder in his eyes. Probably not.

The wind blew yet another curl into his face, and his eyes went a little wide before they focused on Gerry again and, oh, he looked  _ enraged _ . Gerry did take half a step back, but the grin on his lips only grew wider. Not a bad look  _ at all _ .

“You singed my fucking hair!” 

Gerry should probably not laugh, but he couldn’t hold back a little snicker. Of all the things to complain about in this situation, this was up there for the most ridiculous one. “I did no such thing, you just were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Maybe it was the light of the fire, but his eyes looked alight with fury at that comment and now both hands were on the axe. “I’ll show you wrong place at the wrong ti-”

The sirens were still faint, but they both froze. This wasn’t the first time for either, and you didn’t make it long if you didn’t learn to pick out the sirens before they were too close for you to slip away.

Gerry snapped out of it first and took a last good look at the other man. “Another time, maybe.”

He winked, before quickly disappearing into the night, careful to move out of axe-throwing range before actually turning his back to the blond and starting to run. The burning house was starting to crumble and Gerry wasn’t even too mad about missing the show. The night had taken an exciting turn in its own way, a different kind of adrenaline rush than expected. But Gerry wasn’t complaining. It had been a good view, the blond, disheveled and bloody and absolutely furious. Gerry did hope there might be a next time.

*

Michael wasn't sure what he was doing, but it didn't matter. He was done with what he came for, axe still in hand. It had all gone well and without interruption this time. He was still irritated about what had happened the last time. Who did that goth think he was? Just setting fire to the house Michael had chosen. It had been perfect. No neighbours to see him, to hear any screams. And then of course that asshole had set it ablaze and drawn the fucking cops to it anyway. 

Michael didn't even get to just enjoy the calm that always settled after a murder. He had been choking on smoke by then. And then the guy also had the guts to be all cheeky. Michael put a lot of work into his hair and now he had to cut the singed tips off. On top of it all, the fucker had escaped. Nothing really pointed to him showing up again, but Michael decided to be thorough, just in case.

He left the quiet house to burn and waited outside. In case the guy  _ did _ show up, Michael of course wanted him to  _ know _ he had fucked with the wrong person. It was dark and he had found something isolated again, enough that it should give him some time to simply wait and see if the goth showed up. He watched the flames as he did, slowly taking over the house.

Michael burned the bodies sometimes so it wasn't new. But he rarely went out of his way to set the whole building ablaze. It didn't do much for him, despite the flames looking rather pretty in the night. 

"Oh, what the fuck." Michael looked up at the sound of the voice. 

It was the same voice from a couple weeks ago, and Michael felt an echo of the fury he had felt then. He grabbed the axe tighter as he caught sight of the other, all in black, tattoos, piercings. Easily recognisable. With satisfaction, Michael noticed that the grin on his face looked a bit tight as he took in the burning building, eyebrows slightly pinched. He looked annoyed.

He turned his head and looked at Michael. Definitely pissed. “Fire is  _ my _ thing, pretty boy. Go back to your axe.”

He still sounded too amused. Michael’s grin was more a show of teeth as his grip tightened around his axe. "Is that an invitation?”

Now that shit-eating grin was back on his face and Michael was seriously considering carving it off slowly. 

“More of a  _ suggestion _ .”

“You interrupted me last time.” In Michael’s book, they were quits now. It was only fair.

The guy was still grinning. “You’ll regret this.”

Michael rolled his eyes. This guy was annoyingly cocky. “Just fuck  _ off _ .”

He had the audacity to  _ snicker _ . “I thought you wanted to kill me?”

Michael didn’t even say anything to that, just grit his teeth and threw the axe. The goth moved out of its way with infuriating grace and a chuckle. He turned and ran when Michael went to pick the axe up again. Part of Michael  _ really _ wanted to hunt him down. But he wasn’t much of a hunter. And it would probably  _ amuse _ the guy. 

He grit his teeth and went home.

*

It became somewhat of a regularity for them to run into each other. They clearly had similar preferences in location and seemed to be working within more or less the same area. And there were only so many places that fit their criteria. 

Michael made it a habit to come prepared, just in case. It was satisfying to see the disappointment, the annoyance on the other man’s face when he arrived and saw the house already burning. It made Michael grin smugly for a change, and he enjoyed it greatly. It also didn’t interfere with his murders. It was perfect.

Gerry was too petty to care about whether things would end in him having to give up on his nightly plans. He generally went about his usual business. However, if the blond  _ did _ show up, Gerry made  _ sure  _ the inhabitants woke up. Many already did with the fire. But if the blond showed up before Gerry really got any flames going, he’d make  _ sure _ to wake them with noise.

“Are you fucking mad?!” The blond had hissed the first time Gerry had started kicking the trash cans.

A light inside one of the windows turned on and Gerry only responded with a grin before starting to run. He knew this was a risky approach, but the absolutely livid expression on the guy’s face was honestly worth it. Equal amounts attractive as it was entertaining. The possibility of getting caught himself only added another layer to the thrill. Gerry, while not happy about it, felt a little better about not being able to burn anything down on those nights knowing that the blond didn’t get to murder anyone, either. 

There were still plenty of nights he didn’t run into the blond and got to watch the flames consume another building. Both kinds were, in their own way, exhilarating. 

*

It was pure chance that Gerry walked into that specific library. He had only recently moved back to the city and was still in the process of discovering how it had changed in the last couple years. He couldn’t remember this library, but he also hadn’t been on this side of the city an awful lot before, so it might have already been there before he moved away. One way or another, he went inside without anything specific to get on his mind, just to look around.

He was browsing the mystery shelf, when he heard an oddly familiar voice.

Familiar was maybe not quite the right word. Gerry had no recollection of the soft, lilting voice that was giving directions in a hushed tone. But he also  _ did _ . There was something to it, something distinct, that made Gerry follow the sound to the source. 

The source being the blond man he kept running into. He recognised him immediately, despite his hair being down and it being a well-lit room. It didn’t matter how inconspicuously he dressed, Gerry couldn’t imagine there being a whole lot of very tall, blond axe murderers that kept their curly hair unpractically long and seemed to operate mostly around the London area.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t  _ surprised _ by what he was seeing. It didn’t really add up. Gerry had never not seen the blond either furious, or incredibly self-satisfied on the occasions he made it to the house first. This man looked the farthest away from either, smile perfectly friendly, even shy, as he explained where to find whatever the woman in front of him had asked him for. He was wearing a brown cardigan over a light blue collared shirt, and the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose just  _ screamed _ librarian. Maybe it wasn’t the same person after all? No, the voice sounded too similar.

Gerry quickly ducked back behind the shelves when the conversation was over and the blond looked up. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. This was  _ delightful _ . He wondered how much it’d take to turn the friendly, calm expression on his face into anger. Gerry was already closing the distance between them before the thought was fully formed.

“Excuse me?” Gerry talked a little too loudly and the blond’s eyebrows drew together for just a moment, a suggestion of annoyance.

There was quite a bit more passing his expression when he looked up and saw Gerry, confusion, shock, and there, just for a moment, that pissed off glint in his eyes Gerry was so used to.  _ Definitely _ the same guy, then.

His smile was a bit tight when he answered Gerry, “How can I help you?”

Gerry didn’t bother hiding his grin or the fact that he was very much enjoying this. The name tag on the blond’s shirt read Michael Shelley. A fitting name, at least for him right now. A far too ordinary name for the man who had thrown his bloody axe at Gerry a couple months ago. 

“Oh, I was just...searching for some recommandations,” Gerry said, tone leisurely.

Michael’s smile was more of a thin line by now. “Oh, I know just the book for you, let me show you.”

Michael turned around, motion a bit curt, and started walking. Gerry knew he should probably not follow a murderer like this, but he felt that tingling down his spine again, the thrill. He followed.

They walked for quite some time and in silence. Gerry enjoyed watching him tense the farther away they got from other people, first his shoulders, then his whole back, hands balled into fists at his side as he quickened his steps. In one of the endless, empty corridors that didn’t seem to be part of the library anymore - at least not the part accessible to the public - Michael finally spun around and Gerry’s back hit the nearby wall hard. 

Michael’s arm was pinning him to the wall at his throat, his face now very close and  _ very  _ angry. Gerry had never really gotten a close look at it before. It was a pretty face, both before, when he was talking to the woman, and now with the familiar anger in every of his features. Though Gerry still thought it was a good look on him, even without the blood and messy ponytail. 

“Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ to even  _ try _ to tell anyone-”

Gerry had to laugh at that, though it turned into wheezing as Michael pressed his arm further against Gerry’s throat. 

“Snitching? I’d never dream of it.” Gerry looked up with a grin, took in that round, freckled face framed by golden curls. It was still difficult to breathe. “I'd be my word against your angelic face. Lost battle from the start.”

Michael looked confused for a moment, clearly surprised by the comment. Or maybe more by Gerry’s tone sounding nearly genuine when he said it. His eyes, however, still looked very much like he was taunting, and Michael considered, not for the first time, if he shouldn’t just kill him. The man was a nuisance. An attractive nuisance, now that Michael caught a look at him in anything that wasn’t the vague light of fire, but a nuisance nonetheless. 

Michael just didn’t  _ want _ to kill him. He generally didn’t like going for people he knew, saw before. It wasn’t the same. He never liked that flicker of recognition in such people’s eyes right before the kill. He much preferred the pure terror of strangers barely awake.

Well, he certainly couldn’t kill him  _ here _ , that was way too close to the life Michael had worked hard on upholding for so many years. He stepped back, took some satisfaction in watching the goth cough, hand coming to his throat the moment it was freed from Michael’s grip. Then, he turned around and started to walk back.

“Hey, what about that book suggestion?” The goth caught up with quick steps, still sounding too amused for Michael’s liking.

Michael sighed. “What do you like to read?”

Gerry left with a book some ten minutes later, well aware that Michael now knew his name since he had been the one to check it out. They were on equal ground again. 

*

Gerry was back a week later to return the book. It had taken some time for him to catch Michael working again, but he wanted to make sure he’d be there. Gerry had enjoyed himself quite a bit last time and he would make a point of stopping by and pissing him off in the future. He was too impatient to wait for the next time they happened to target the same house. This was too good of an opportunity to not be used.

The moment Michael caught sight of him, his smile turned forced, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he schooled them back into his neutral expression. It only made Gerry’s grin wider as he approached him, book in hand.

“How did you like it?” Michael asked, an automatism, as he looked the book over for damage. It smelled of smoke, making him furrow his brows.

“Oh, I found the  _ axe _ ecution of the plot quite fascinating.”

Michael’s grip on the book tightened and the look he gave Gerry felt like a blow, made him want to back away. He didn’t, watched instead as Michael forced himself to release the book from his death grip. 

The smile looked more like a grimace as he said, “I’m happy to hear that.”

“Do you have any other recommendations?”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave here right now.” It sounded like a threat, like Gerry should be thankful that he couldn’t. “I’m sure one of my coworkers will be happy to help you.”

“Hm...I think I’d rather come back another time.”

Michael watched, mouth a thin line, as the guy turned around and walked back out the door, steps easy.

Michael expected him to follow through on that promise, and, indeed, only a couple days later the guy was back. Michael saw him wait as he helped out another customer, browsing the nearby shelves without straying too far. He was obviously not going to give up. Michael walked up to him after he was done with the customer.

“Fine. What do you want this time?”

Gerry looked up at him with a grin that made Michael dread what might follow. “Hm...maybe some sci-fi? Something with some  _ cutting edge _ technology?”

Michael looked decidedly unamused. This guy was seriously making him wish for his axe at work. His hands felt so  _ empty  _ in that moment. He gave him a warning look. “Gerard…”

That stupid grin only grew wider. “You know, something fast-paced.  _ Axe _ iting.”

It took Michael all his self control to not punch him right then and there. He did have to turn around from that smug expression to manage, but that was fine. The sci-fi section was in that direction anyways. He tried to ignore the poorly contained snickering behind him as the goth followed.

*

Gerry was in bed the same night when he got the book from the library out. He did read them, despite mostly going back to piss Michael off. The first book he had suggested hadn’t been bad, so Gerry was curious to see what he had brought home this time. There was a note stuck to the first page of the book and Gerry raised his eyebrows. In disgustingly neat handwriting, it read:

_ Please remember I’m a literal axe murderer and I do know where you live. _

It was signed with an obnoxiously perfect heart and ‘Michael’ and Gerry was gritting his teeth, but also grinning. Michael could have killed him multiple times already. Gerry wondered if this meant he would actually be trying the next time they ran into each other at night. He doubted it, but the possibility was still exciting. He put the note on his bedside table and got out his notebook. Two could play this game, and he needed a bookmark anyways.

It took him a couple times until he was satisfied with the heart he drew. He didn’t want it to look any less perfect than Michael’s. Once he was satisfied with it, he wrote:

_ Please remember I’m an arsonist and your workplace is incredibly flammable. Gerry _

Gerry made sure the note was right in the front of the book when he brought it back a couple days later. Again, he waited until he could give the book back to Michael specifically. Michael didn’t ask him how he liked it this time, barely graced him with a look. He opened the book, as he seemed to always do when they were returned, and found Gerry’s slightly singed note. That did make him look at Gerry after reading it.

“You wouldn’t dare.” A threat, a warning.

Gerry raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What makes you think so?”

Michael was watching him, analysing. It wouldn’t fit his usual choice of location. But maybe if pushed? Out of pettiness? Michael narrowed his eyes. No, he was fairly sure the threat was empty. 

Gerry held his gaze with his easy grin until he decided he was done and turned away with a wink, walking back to the door. Michael stared at the note in his hand and grit his teeth. He still didn’t believe it. But the audacity to respond to his own note like this still pissed him off. 

It was also, maybe, a little exciting. Michael hadn’t assumed Gerard - or Gerry, as he apparently preferred - to be  _ intimidated _ by his note, but he certainly hadn’t expected him to respond with a threat of his own, no matter how empty.

*

Gerry stopped by the library frequently. Michael really wished he would at least stop the puns and axe-references, but Gerry seemed to never run out of those. Their little passive aggressive note exchange had also become a recurring thing. Gerry looked as entertained as ever every time, but Michael was certainly starting to enjoy himself, too. It helped that the longer Michael was forced to deal with Gerry, the more he noticed how easy on the eyes he was.

*

They did run into each other at night again, too. Things continued the same for a while, though not quite. It  _ felt _ different. Less malice and more game, a dance. They were having fun.

Occasionally, they would end up just working together. There was nothing stopping them from letting Michael into the house first and having Gerry burn it down after he was done. They'd watch the orange and red of the flames against the night together sometimes. Michael’s eyes kept flickering to the gleeful expression on Gerry's face as he watched the fire. There was something endearing about the pure joy Gerry seemed to find in watching the flames consume the house. A mad joy, but Michael wasn't one to judge. He just enjoyed the view in silence, watched the light of the fire play on Gerry’s handsome features.

Their little nights working together never really put an end to those when they did their best to piss the other off. It added a new layer of excitement. Who knew what the next night might bring?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is still very angry, Gerry is still having the time of his life, more murder, more arson, more puns, with added tenderness and mild spice. Enjoy.

Their library interactions followed a similar pattern. Gerry still did his best to make them as infuriating as he could, puns and jokes and that playful grin Michael would still like to wipe off his face. Maybe not with his axe anymore. Though sometimes he did still miss having it around just to get Gerry to leave him alone.

More importantly, Michael wanted to get back at him with some kind of pun of his own. Gerry seemed to have an endless amount of axe-puns, how hard could it be to find something fire related? Even just one, just to see if Michael meeting him on equal grounds would do anything to that annoying grin.

Unfortunately, Michael had never been very gifted with jokes. So it took him a while until he figured something out he was satisfied with. But once he did, he could barely contain his excitement as he waited for Gerry to show up again.

The day finally came and Gerry was back at the library. He instantly noticed the fact that Michael’s usual careful smile looked a little off. A bit lopsided, looking like his mouth was trying hard not to pull into a grin. He raised an eyebrow, wary, as he gave his book back, and the money for the slightly singed edges. Michael’s smile didn’t even falter at that. Odd. Usually he really disapproved of Gerry actually damaging the books.

“Did you like it?” Michael asked, nearly in a sing-song voice. He was far too cheery today. Gerry looked around, but nothing seemed different. He knit his brows.

“Uh, yes, it was pretty good.” He considered, before adding, “Quite the un _ axe _ pected twist.”

If anything, Michael’s grin grew  _ wider _ at that. Something was definitely wrong. Gerry narrowed his eyes as Michael started to speak, “It really is, as young people would say, ‘lit’ isn’t it?”

Gerry felt physical pain at that. He could deal with bad puns, he could, but this made even him cringe. And Michael looked  _ so proud _ , grey eyes bright and shining, grin the very definition of satisfaction. He looked  _ adorable _ and Gerry was  _ in pain _ . And confused, so confused because his heart was beating faster the longer he looked at Michael’s face like that and he was  _ endeared _ and also  _ disgusted _ by that pun and he needed to  _ leave _ .

Michael watched him go with a triumphant smile.

*

Gerry had the knife already in his hand when he saw the person crashing through the door of the burning building, but before he could step out of the shadow Michael was there, axe raised, and quickly buried in the running person’s chest. Gerry was stunned. Michael had arrived after the fire had started, so he had stayed back and simply watched, sulking. So Gerry certainly hadn’t expected _ this. _

Gerry watched as Michael removed the axe again with a quick motion that had no right looking so elegant. Michael dragged the body back to the flaming house, nudging it into the fire without getting too close himself. There was a calm to his movements, a stark contrast to the murder itself, and Gerry realised he had never actually  _ seen  _ any of the murders, hadn’t even really seen Michael raise his axe from an outside perspective. There was a beauty to it, and Gerry was still standing there, in awe, when Michael came back and picked up his axe from where he had dropped it. He looked up at Gerry, and blew an escaped curl out of his face with a cocky grin.

“Can you even kill anyone with that thing?” He closed the space between them, nodding towards the knife in Gerry’s hand.

The mocking tone made Gerry snap out of it and grin, twirling the knife in his hand. “What, are you asking for a demonstration?”

The glint in Michael’s eyes was of murderous glee, and Gerry’s mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Michael brought both hands to his axe, and his lopsided grin went toothy and Gerry felt a shiver run down his spine, felt the urge to  _ run _ . He didn’t, of course, his own grin only growing wider.

Michael moved his hands, only a little, only for the light of the flames to catch in the bloodied blade of his axe, drawing Gerry’s eyes to it. Not for long. They were back on Michael’s lips the moment he spoke. “You can try, if you want.”

“I think I’d rather kiss you.”

Michael’s expression was priceless, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in a silent, surprised  _ oh? _ . There was a little smudge of blood on his chin and his lips looked so very _ inviting _ , and Gerry kept fidgeting with his knife as he looked up into the shocked eyes with a grin that didn’t quite cover up how nervous he was feeling. 

They had found a comfortable, fun balance with each other in the past months. This might tip it all, make it crumble. But Gerry wanted it, and he hadn’t realised how much until the words were over his lips. 

“I’d like that,” Michael mumbled, and Gerry had never heard his voice like this, not towards him. 

It was the shy tone he heard him use with some of his customers, the one that made him sound a little intimidated by the situation. He leaned in and Michael lowered the axe and met him halfway for a kiss.

Gerry tasted of smoke and Michael would have rolled his eyes at that if it hadn’t been for the fact that Gerry’s lips felt so good moving against his, a little chapped, but  _ good _ , and Michael let go of his axe with one hand, cupping the back of Gerry’s head instead. Gerry took the opportunity to wrap his free arm around Michael’s waist and pull him closer. 

Michael swiped his tongue over Gerry’s upper lip, lingered on that little scar Michael had found his eyes drawn to many a time before. Gerry hummed, opened his mouth and Michael buried his fingers in Gerry’s hair, and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding into Gerry’s mouth. 

The sirens made them both stop, kiss interrupted as they both strained to listen. Still far, but undeniably there. Gerry’s arm was still around Michael’s waist when he looked back up at him. They were so close Gerry could make out the freckles on his cheeks even in the dim light of the fire. It felt strangely right to be close, it felt  _ good _ , and Gerry knew he should let go, but he didn’t want to. Michael met his eyes, and the movement made the loose curl from earlier fall back into his face. Gerry did let go of his waist, then, to wrap the strand of hair around his finger.

“I live close by, if you’d like to continue.”  _ Close by _ was relative, but Gerry knew Michael knew that. It wasn’t really the point he was making anyway.

Michael raised his eyebrows at that, a grin playing on his lips. “Are you inviting a literal murderer into your house?”

Gerry tucked the curl around his finger behind Michael’s ear with a wink. “I do like to play with fire.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but nodded. The sirens already sounded closer than before. They didn’t look back when they disappeared into the night.

Gerry pulled Michael into another kiss as soon as the door to his apartment closed behind him, hands both free now and going to Michael’s hair. The ponytail was already messed up and Gerry pulled the hair tie out. Michael hummed into the kiss and pulled him closer, wrapped his arms around him, as Gerry buried his hands in the now loose curls.

Gerry broke the kiss after a moment, to breathe, but also to mumble, “Bedroom?”

Michael was still a little out of breath from the kiss when he answered, “I...I should maybe clean up.” 

Gerry looked up at his flushed face through half-lidded eyes, grinned as he ran his thumb over the now dry blood on Michael's chin. He looked like perfection. “No, I don’t think so.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s your sheets.”

“I can always  _ burn _ them if necessary." He chuckled a little, fingers running down Michael’s arm. His arms still didn’t look like they should be so used to holding an axe, but Gerry knew better now. He could feel some of that strength even in the current loose embrace and he wanted  _ more _ .

Michael groaned and rolled his eyes. "Do you ever shut up?"

Gerry gave him a mischievous grin. "Maybe you should kiss me harder."

Michael let go of him, a grin playing on his lips. "Lead the fucking way."

Gerry didn’t need to be told twice. He took Michael’s hand and pulled him further into the apartment.

*

To Gerry’s surprise Michael was still there in the morning. He didn’t complain about it, his head a pleasant weight on Gerry’s shoulder. He had still been asleep when Gerry woke, but if Michael’s low hum as Gerry traced the calloused fingers resting on his chest was anything to go by, he was probably awake by now.

“You should try gloves,” Gerry mumbled, squeezing his hand gently, running his thumb over rough skin.

“Only helps so much. Also...not as good of a grip.” Michael sighed and buried his face in Gerry’s chest.

They lay in silence for a while. Gerry continued to trace his hand, fingers following his wrist, his arm, so very soft compared to the rough skin of his hands. He did keep coming back to the hands. Gerry’s hands weren’t the smoothest, either, years of always getting a little too close to the flames had left their marks. That, and playing with knives. 

Michael’s were rough in a different way, not so much burnt and cut, but calloused from holding and wielding axes, Gerry assumed. He liked how the skin felt underneath his fingers a lot.

“What now?” he mumbled into the comfortable silence after a while. It felt like a necessary question, maybe. He wasn’t sure.

Michael sighed and moved his head so his nose wasn’t pressed into Gerry’s chest anymore. His voice was already heavy with sleep, so it would probably be indecipherable if he’d just vaguely mumble into Gerry’s skin. “Hm...I could take you out?”

Gerry grinned and brushed some hair behind his ear. Michael’s hair seemed to be all over the place. “With your axe or on a date?”

Michael sighed, and rolled his eyes, looked up at him. “I could do both.”

Gerry met his eyes with a smirk. “Surprise me.” 

Michael groaned. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Gerry was cackling, but Michael pulled himself up to silence him with a kiss. 

*

Michael took him out for coffee later that week, though not without reminding him that the other option wasn’t necessarily off the table. His tone was lighthearted as he said it, but there was a glint in Michael’s eyes that made Gerry’s spine tingle. He might not be completely serious, but he wasn’t fully joking, either. Gerry liked that.

It was a nice change to meet somewhere that wasn’t the library or wherever nights usually took them. It had a ridiculously casual atmosphere to it, like they hadn’t been talking about maybe tackling the next house together from the start just a couple hours earlier. Neither was particularly interested in making that a regular thing, but it did sound like a fun date idea.

Michael raised an eyebrow as soon as their orders arrived. “Iced coffee?”

“What?” Gerry gave him a confused look.

Michael put his hands around his cup of tea. “I just assumed you’d take your coffee  _ burning _ hot or something.”

Gerry chuckled and stirred his coffee. “Well, I’d think you’d go for something _ sharper  _ than plain tea.”

Michael’s expression pulled into a scowl. “That didn’t even make sense.”

“And yet you are still looking at me with that lovely, annoyed expression.”

Gerry saw the kick to the shins coming and moved his legs out of the way gracefully. The scowl on Michael’s face only deepened when Gerry winked and brought his coffee to his lips.

Michael’s apartment was disturbingly normal. Gerry hadn't expected Michael to invite him, and some distant voice in his head had certainly warned him it sounded suspiciously like a trap, but Gerry was at his best when ignoring whatever remaining voice of reason he still had. He accepted the invitation and followed Michael up the stairs and through the apartment door, well aware that the threshold was the last opportunity of escape. At least for a clean escape. Gerry didn't care much for those anyway.

He didn't really know what he had been expecting, but he was stunned by how normal the apartment looked. A little messy - Michael had apologised for that in advance - but cozy. Gerry’s brows knit in confusion as he looked around.

Michael watched him with raised eyebrows. “What? Did you think I’d have my murder weapon on display or something?”

Gerry shrugged. “I mean...sort of, yeah.”

“Your place didn’t scream ‘arsonist’ either.”

“I guess…”

“Stop looking so disappointed.”

Gerry threw him a grin. “I’m afraid I’ll need help with that.”

Michael rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, should I get you some paper to burn,  _ arsonist _ ?”

“I was thinking of a kiss,” Gerry considered for a moment, but ‘axe murderer’ didn’t quite have the same ring to it as ‘arsonist’. He took in Michael’s face for a moment, before adding, “Pretty boy.”

He watched, satisfied, as Michael’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of red. Gerry was unsure if he had ever seen him  _ flustered _ . It looked good.

“Shut up…” he grumbled, sounding distinctly like he didn’t mean it.

Gerry turned towards him, threw his arms around Michael’s neck. He looked up at him. “Do you really want me to,  _ honey _ ?” Michael bit his lip and was clearly struggling to hold Gerry’s gaze as his blush spread across his face. He did shake his head, barely noticeable. Gerry smiled, kissed his lips. “My dear,” he mumbled as he pulled away. Did Michael just hum? Gerry kissed him again, mumbling, “My love.” Gerry looked up at his face, but Michael didn’t look like he was going to stop him, so he pressed their lips together once more, with a fond, “Darling.”

Michael looked like he was trying very hard to cover up his flustered, maybe even happy, expression with annoyance when Gerry looked up at him again. It wasn’t really working, not when his grey eyes looked so soft. 

“You’re cute.” Gerry pressed a kiss to his chin.

Michael did let the smile through now, pressed a kiss to Gerry’s forehead, hand running through Gerry’s hair. “You, too, my arsonist.”

*

It became Gerry’s designated epithet and if Michael got side-eyed by his friends or coworkers on the occasions he mentioned ‘his sweet arsonist’, he didn’t think of it too much. They probably just assumed it was some sort of inside joke. And, in a way, they were right.

Worse than Michael’s coworkers and friends, were the strangers that encountered them talking like that on the streets, at the store. They had started to hang out at each other’s places with a frequency that made Michael feel like he should take Gerry grocery shopping with him, ask him what he’d like for dinner or breakfast. Maybe the fact that it was just more fun together, not just the shopping itself, but also the entertaining looks they drew, helped, too.

Michael was having a lot of fun. He used his most affectionate voice when he asked, “Arsonist of mine, what is your favorite cereal?”

Gerry could feel the confused glances from around them at that, caught a glimpse of a furrowed brow further down the aisle. There was a certain thrill to knowing they heard him being called that, unaware of how true it was.

“I’m not picky, honey.” Gerry watched the small, flustered smile appear on Michael’s lips, before adding, “Whatever you like is fine, my dear.”

He knew it only confused people more, hearing such endearments coming from the goth that, for some reason, responded to the blond’s loving ‘arsonist’. It was fun. Maybe a little risky, but that only made it more fun.

*

They met up at the location they had previously decided on. Going together felt strange. Michael was already waiting by the house when Gerry arrived. They shared a grin, and a kiss, before getting to work.

They moved soundlessly as they slipped inside the house, and Michael realised that Gerry’s obnoxiously audible steps in the library were loud on purpose, not due to his boots, as Michael had previously assumed. He glared at him, but Gerry was already turning around and disappearing into the opposite direction. He always started on the lower floor. Michael turned towards the stairs to the bedrooms, axe in hand.

Michael stretched his fingers as he waited for Gerry to set the fire. He had gotten better at not holding the axe in a vise grip over the years, but it still happened sometimes, especially when one of his victims decided to act up. Not that it ever became a problem. Michael knew how to handle himself.

Gerry appeared next to him again as the flames started to take. His eyes fell on Michael’s axe and Gerry gave him a questioning look. Michael nodded for him to go ahead, a grin playing on his lips. Gerry reached down to pick it up. It was a little awkward. He wasn't used to holding something so unbalanced and it was heavy. Gerry wasn't weak by any means, but the actual noticeable heaviness did take him a bit by surprise, made him stumble.

Michael laughed, his lilting, amused laughter. "That's not how you hold an axe, arsonist. A little heavier than your lighter, huh?"

Gerry was glad that the fire wasn’t bright enough yet to make his blush visible. Michael's hands were on his all of a sudden, rearranging his fingers on the axe, carefully loosening the too-tight grip. Gerry hated to admit that, though still a little strange, it felt a lot less awkward already.

He wouldn’t admit that  _ out loud _ , of course. Instead, he chuckled. "Not like you know how to properly burn down a house, from what I’ve seen.” Gerry felt Michael’s fingers tense up against his. He looked at him over his shoulder, trying to imagine the irritated expression on his face, since it was too dark to see. “Maybe I should show you how it's done one of these nights, sweetheart."

He knew Michael was blushing, as he always did at pet names, but he wondered if his expression had now shifted from annoyed to flustered. He sounded amused when he said, "Oh it's a  _ science _ to burn things to ashes, is it?"

It was, but Michael knew that. Gerry indulged him and took the bait. "More of an  _ art _ ." 

Michael tsked, and took the axe from Gerry. Gerry turned towards the growing flames of the house, starting to become more noticable, brighter. He sighed, a satisfied smile on his lips. Michael watched his face with a small smile of his own.

*

Michael didn’t forget about the arson comment. It nagged at him that Gerry was, even if it had been mostly teasing, probably right. Thankfully, Michael worked in a place that tended to provide information on pretty much anything. He might as well take the opportunity to read up.

They were sat on Gerry’s couch one evening when Michae said, “I did my research.”

Gerry looked at him curiously. “Your research?” 

Michael gave him a grin that was a little tight. “Well, you insulted my arson skills last time. So I read up on it.”

“Oh…” Gerry was surprised, but in a strangely warm way. He hadn’t expected Michael to care enough about that comment to read up on it. Even if it had been mostly out of spite, Gerry felt a little flustered. He couldn’t think of anything smart or infuriating to say, so he settled with, “What did you learn?”

Michael didn’t even get three sentences into his explanation before an argument started. Gerry kept butting in, correcting, insisting on how he knew better since he had been doing this for years. Michael didn’t want to hear of it, he surely didn’t need to be instructed on how to set something on fire, he knew, and now he had research to back him up.

Gerry ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying, from experience-”

“You’re just mad,” Michael snapped back.

“Well, if you think you know better, be my guest.” Gerry rose from the couch. “The bathroom’s safe to burn something in, let me get you what you say you need.”

Minutes later they were in the bathroom with an old book to burn, which Michael disliked, but he was also too stubborn to not take the opportunity to prove his point. He had memorised the steps and went about it, Gerry watching him, arms crossed and silent. 

The flames took, too quickly and with too much force and Michael was way too close with his face. The hiss was close to a shout as Michael whipped his head back and dropped the book. Gerry moved quickly, one hand cupping the back of Michael’s head, bringing his face under the tap he was turning on with his other hand. Michael was clearly too shocked to react at first, but the cold water snapped him out of it and he tried to get out of Gerry’s grip, to no avail.

“What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?” his voice was a pitch too high but Michael didn’t care, his heart was racing and he was  _ hurting _ .

Gerry rolled his eyes. “Cooling the fucking burn, you moron.”

“Oh,” Michael mumbled quietly. 

He angled his face so the stream hit where his face seemed to still be burning, just above his eyes. The cold felt like a blessing. Gerry sighed, and let go of his head, putting out the still-burning book instead.

Michael held his head under the tap until he felt like the heat on his brow had turned into something closer to numbness. He looked up, then, wiped the remaining water off his face, carefully. 

Gerry  _ laughed _ . Michael furrowed his eyebrows at that. Or rather, his lack thereof. They had burned off, angry, irritated red skin marking the place where they had been moments before. Gerry couldn’t stop laughing. It looked so  _ silly _ , Michael’s partly wet hair and shirt only adding to it.

Michael seemed to catch on to the fact that Gerry wasn’t laughing about the situation itself, at least not only. He turned around to look in the mirror and froze. Gingerly, he brought his fingers to where his eyebrows had been before, now just burned skin, not quite blistering. The touch still made him flinch.

“Wait, wait, don’t touch it,” Gerry said in-between snickers, rummaging through the cupboard behind him. He found what he wanted. “Let’s get into the living room, better lighting.”

Michael was pouting, which didn’t at all help Gerry with stopping to laugh, but he did follow when Gerry left the bathroom. Gerry had him sit down on the sofa, angled his head towards the ceiling lamp. Michael squeezed his eyes shut at that, and it  _ stung _ . He bit his lip.

“Doesn’t look too bad.” Gerry carefully spread some of the salve he had grabbed from the bathroom on the burns. 

Michael let out a sigh Gerry understood too well, the bliss of the cold cream on the lingering burn. He was very familiar with it. Gerry noticed a tear, and brushed it away with his thumb.

He couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his voice as he asked, “Crying about the lost eyebrows or pain?”

“It  _ hurts _ ,” it sounded dangerously close to a whine, and Michael pressed his lips into a thin, disapproving line.

“I know, believe me.” Gerry pet his cheek, managing to sound genuinely apologetic amidst the amused chuckles that kept escaping him. “Your fingers?”

Michael opened his fists, looked down at them. The fingertips looked red and felt warm, but not burned. “I think I let go quickly enough.”

Gerry took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to the tip of his thumb, mumbling, “That’s something.” 

Michael let out a sigh, maybe of relief, but Gerry wasn’t quite done with him. The salve made his face look even sillier, and Gerry burst into another fit of giggles when he took it in, technically to check if anything else was burned - it didn’t seem like it - but also just to enjoy the ridiculous view. Michael tried to knit his brows, but it only made him hiss.

Gerry sat down across from Michael, on the coffee table, grin wide on his lips. “So?”

Michael disliked that tone. “So what?”

“Was this worth it to prove your point  _ wrong _ ?”

Of course. Michael really wasn’t in the mood for this now. “Oh, fuck off.”

Gerry was enjoying himself a little too much to stop. “To me it certainly was. And more entertaining that I would’ve imagined.”

Another snicker, and Michael considered kicking him, but his heart was just calming down and he didn’t want to move. “Shut  _ up _ .”

Gerry laughed. “Okay, okay. I just want to make it clear that I was right.”

“ _ Shut it _ .” Michael was glaring at him, looking like he’d love to have the axe on him right now. It looked as thrilling as ever.

“Just want to make sure.” Gerry winked and got up from the table, moving to the kitchen. Michael could probably do with a glass of water.

*

The burns healed as burns tend to, slowly. But they healed, and soon Michael didn’t notice obvious, concerned glances from coworkers and customers alike, eyeing the angry red marks above his eyes. They stopped looking angry enough for that.

But his eyebrows were still  _ gone _ and Michael’s ego was still sore. Gerry made sure to remind him of both, a constant snicker in his voice whenever they met up. Michael did sometimes consider to just strangle him to death.

“Look, if you’re so sad about the eyebrows, I can draw you some new ones. Maybe in a colour that actually makes them visible, not like the last ones.”

Gerry sounded too fucking amused, so sure of the fact that the suggestion would piss Michael off, so certain of what kind of response Michael would give. Michael didn’t want to play into that, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of predicting his reaction. Gerry was already way too smug about the whole situation.

Michael knew it was a very bad idea when he said, “Sure.”

Gerry’s confused, stunned expression was worth it.

It unfortunately didn’t stay on his face too long. When, minutes later, Gerry was leaning over Michael’s face with a black sharpie in hand, there was nothing but joy in his features. And eventually, after he was done, he was curling in on himself in laughter. 

It was fine. Michael knew it had been a bad idea. It was _ fine _ , he’d just suck it up.

Nobody at work dared to ask about the black eyebrows that made him look permanently pissed off and vaguely threatening even when smiling. That was probably a good thing. He had been somewhat successful biting back his anger around Gerry, had managed to barely give a reaction to seeing himself in the mirror after Gerry was done. It hadn’t made Gerry stop laughing, but Michael considered the flicker of disappointment in his eyes a triumph.

However, that didn’t mean he was basically close to boiling over. The next kill couldn’t come quickly enough. Gerry had invited him for next week, and Michael was counting the days as he noticed people deliberately not looking at his face.

*

Gerry watched Michael from his place next to the door. Michael had made it very clear he didn’t like to be interrupted, to be watched, but the murder was over and Gerry had waited for a bit, but Michael still didn’t emerge. So he had slipped in through the door that had been left slightly open, curious about what might be taking so long. 

Michael was just standing there, breathing not quite calm, but calming down from the rush a moment before. He looked serene in the face of the carnage in front of him, some splatters of blood, as usual, on him. Or he would look serene if it weren’t for those ridiculous eyebrows. As much as he tried, Gerry couldn’t quite keep the giggles down.

Michael snapped out of it immediately, turned around and threw his axe in one, swift motion. Gerry ducked out of the way quickly, the blade burying into the wall right next to his head. He didn’t try to hold back his laughter anymore, high-pitched as the situation caught up with him and adrenaline hit, slightly delayed. 

Michael looked furious, grey eyes ablaze with anger as he closed the distance between them, jaw set. The eyebrows nearly looked right like this, his whole face the very definition of rage. He was beautiful, blood on his face and all. Just like that first night, except Gerry was with his back against the wall when Michael came to a stop right in front of him, so close. No escape. 

His ponytail was a mess again, stray hair a halo around his face where it didn’t stick to his blood- and sweat slicked skin, making him look like some sort of vengeful angel, lips pulled into a snarl as he reached for his axe. Gerry grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him into a kiss. Michael was surprised, for a moment, but he did return the kiss after, bruising and all teeth. Gerry pulled him closer, angled his head to deepen the kiss. 

It was over too quickly, and Gerry was left panting and tasting blood, his own, if his aching lower lip was anything to go by. The anger wasn’t gone from Michael’s eyes, but something inquisitive had joined it as he looked down at Gerry. But he still looked pissed off and his hand was still resting on the handle of the axe embedded in the wall next to Gerry’s head, where his head had been just a moment before. An exquisite look, as far as Gerry was concerned.

Gerry grinned up at him, eyes too wide with thrill, exhilaration. “You’re so fucking hot like this. Even with those stupid eyebrows. It’s unfair.”

Michael rolled his eyes, though Gerry thought he could make out the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks as he pulled the axe out of the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gerry laughed at that. “Says the one who just nearly axed me.”

The laughter stopped when Michael brought the blade of the axe very close to the side of Gerry’s neck, making his heart pick up pace again. In fear, probably. In excitement, certainly.

“Next time, I’ll aim for the kill,” Michael’s tone was light-hearted, but there was a warning in his eyes. Gerry had clearly overstepped.

He grinned. “Next time I’ll make sure it’s not just eyebrows that get burned to a crisp.”

Michael rolled his eyes and let his arm holding the axe fall back to his side. Gerry took an involuntary breath of relief.

“Speaking of burning, are you planning to wait until sunrise?”

Gerry raised an eyebrow. “You were the one that spent minutes in your post-murder revery.”

Again, that glint in Michael’s eyes. “Don’t interrupt again.”

“I won’t.” Gerry meant it, and Michael looked satisfied after holding his gaze for a moment, his own lips pulling up into a grin again.

“Good.” Michael bent down to press a kiss to the tip of Gerry’s nose. “Now burn this place down, the decor is atrocious.”

He scrunched up his nose as he took a look at the room, and it looked adorable. Gerry chuckled, and kissed his jaw.

“As you wish, darling.”

There was definitely a blush across Michael’s freckled cheeks now, and he gave Gerry a short, shy smile before leaving the room and the house.

*

Eventually, the eyebrows were gone. It took some time, especially because Michael couldn’t scrub too hard, the skin was still tender. He had never liked burns. The pain and heat lingered, and they took too long to heal.

By now, the burns had faded into pale scar tissue, barely distinguishable from Michael’s skin, and he was fine with that. They probably wouldn’t grow back, he knew, and it still annoyed him. It had been his own fault. He’d live with the consequences. At least Gerry stopped laughing all the time. He was used to the sight.

Michael was taking care of his axe. It had been in need of proper cleaning and sharpening for a while now. He heard the bathroom door, and then the door to the bedroom, but didn’t let himself be interrupted by that. It became more of a challenge when Gerry came into the living room and draped his arms - still warm from the bath - around Michael’s shoulders.

“I’m bored,” he whined, right into Michael’s ear. It would have made him jump had he not gotten used to Gerry doing that a lot when he was bored.

So instead of jumping, he simply mumbled, “Well, I’m busy. Find something to do.”

Gerry nipped at his earlobe, gently. “Don’t wanna.”

“Then stop complaining and let me work.”

A sigh, right into Michael’s ear. It made him shiver slightly, but Gerry did pull away. He came around the couch and sat down next to Michael. Nothing good would come out of this, Michael knew, but he didn’t let himself get interrupted.

Gerry watched him work, which wasn’t a bad sight, but not what he wanted. Michael’s gaze was nearly loving as he worked on a particularly stubborn bloodstain on the blade, and Gerry wanted that gaze on himself. “I’m still bored.”

Michael sighed. “Can’t you just go and polish your lighter or something?”

Gerry laughed. “That’s not how things work.”

“Well, as you keep reminding me, I know nothing about arson. So you’ll have to excuse my ignorance, arsonist.” The tone was teasing and Gerry grinned, leaned against Michael’s side.

“I’ll excuse it, love.”

Michael sighed. “Gerry, I can’t work like this.”

“Fine.” Michael could hear the pout in his voice, but the weight against his arm did disappear.

Only to appear on his thigh again. Michael looked down to where Gerry’s head had made its way half into his lap. Gerry was always like this after a bath or shower, cuddly, but in a very insistent way. Michael shook his head and bit back a smile, going back to his axe. 

Gerry made a noise of disapproval, wiggled further into his lap. Michael had to move the axe out of the way. Or maybe he didn’t  _ have _ to, maybe an impromptu haircut would be a fitting revenge for the whole eyebrow situation. But he still did, and Gerry was cuddling into his sweater. Michael sighed and gave up, putting the axe on the floor next to the couch.

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

Gerry’s grin was triumphant, but not in that infuriating smug way. His eyes looked too warm for that, molten chocolate; a bit of honey, when the light hit just right. There was an eyelash on his left cheek and Michael gently brushed it away with his thumb. Gerry leaned into the touch, looked up at his face. 

Now that the burns were healed and the sharpie lines gone, it really didn’t look too different from before. Michael’s eyebrows had never been incredibly visible, only when the light caught in the pale hairs, like it did in his lashes right now. Gerry still thought the very angry sharpie eyebrows had at least had character.

He brought his hand to Michael’s face, traced the smooth, scarred skin of his brow. “I miss your second eyebrows already, are you  _ sure _ you don’t want me to redraw them?”

“Don’t you dare.” Michael sighed, took his hand. He looked down at him with a grin. “Anyone else I would’ve murdered by now. So don’t push it too far.”

Gerry’s eyes lit up with mischief at that first sentence. “Aw, darling, does that make me the  _ axe _ ception?”

Michael groaned, “Will you ever run out of shitty puns?”

“No, honey, not if I can help it.” Gerry brought Michael’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. 

They fell into comfortable silence for a moment, drawing patterns on each other’s hand. Michael’s other hand traced the lines of Gerry’s face absentmindedly. They were familiar enough to be followed without much focus by now.

“So, are you coming next week?” Gerry asked after a while of quiet bliss.

“Hm?”

Gerry looked up at him. “Found a good place for another date? If you want.”

Michael had refused any more nightly outings together after last time. Well, at least any that involved murder and arson. Though he had turned down plenty of normal meet-ups, too. He didn’t like being out too much while the sharpie was still so visible, was getting too annoyed at Gerry’s constant cackling. 

Gerry hadn’t pushed after a while. But things felt better now, so he had suggested something again. Michael hadn’t given him a clear response when he did, which also meant he hadn’t clearly declined the offer.

“Sure,” he said now, tracing Gerry’s eyebrow with his fingers and a small smile.

*

When Michael met Gerry on the lower level, Gerry was shocked for a moment. Michael was never very tidy killing, obviously, but tonight there seemed to be a lot more blood on him than usual. Gerry  _ had _ heard a bit of a scuffle from upstairs, but it had been short, over before any voices could be heard. And, at least in the light of Gerry’s lighter, it didn’t look like any of that blood was Michael’s.

“Uh, you went...really for it tonight, huh?”

Michael sighed and brushed some hair out of his face, only resulting in transferring the blood from his fingers onto the blond strands. He shrugged. “Tough week.”

“That new coworker still stressing you out?” Michael had spent most of the week ranting about the new coworker. Gerry hadn’t doubted the genuinity of the texts, but he was still impressed by it resulting in _ this _ . What the hell had Michael even done for things to get this messy?

“Quite.” Michael met his eyes in the dim light. “I’ll be outside-”

“Actually, do you want to try?” He vaguely nodded at the lighter in his hand. “I can show you. I never did end up actually doing that.”

Michael shook his head. He knew Gerry found calm and relaxation in setting fire to things and watching them burn, but Michael just didn’t care much for it. His heart still fluttered at the considerate gesture, but, at least tonight, he didn’t feel like being instructed. He was satisfied with how the night had gone.

Gerry nodded and waited for Michael to leave through the front door, before getting to work. Maybe one day a night would come where Michael would agree. If not, Gerry didn’t mind either.

*

Michael sunk further into the bathwater as Gerry worked on his hair, fingers massaging his scalp, running through the long strands. Most of the blood had come off, but some spots seemed to have stained and Gerry was trying to get those out, too. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the occasional reddishness of Michael’s hair he had noticed before after all. 

Michael hummed blissfully as Gerry’s fingers brushed his scalp again. It wasn’t the first time he had agreed to a bath together. It always felt so nice when Gerry massaged his scalp like this, and Michael needed very little convincing by now. Especially after a week as stressful as this one. He felt a lot better after the kill, but still tense

“Does it never bother you how messy it gets?” Gerry mumbled into the pleasant silence. Michael didn’t seem to try to reduce the mess when he went for the kill in general, even disregarding tonight being worse than usual. This was their second bathwater. Gerry had always wondered. Michael seemed so horribly bothered by stains on his clothes under any other circumstance.

“Not really. It’s part of the appeal.” Michael looked at him over his shoulder, then started to turn around. 

Gerry sat back, though there wasn’t much space in the tub. Some water definitely hit the floor as Michael settled back into the water, this time facing Gerry. He took him in for a moment before bringing his hand to his cheek. “And you’re one to talk. You look like a fucking chimney sweep.” He brushed some ash from his cheek, only succeeding in leaving a black smudge in its place. 

He sighed, pulling his hand back to pick at the blood that was still stuck below his nails. A new coat of nail polish would hide it, but he might as well be thorough. “What did you stand so close to the flames for anyway?”

Gerry always did that. Stand far too close to the fire, at least for Michael’s taste. Gerry chuckled and took Michael’s hand back, rubbed a stubborn bloodstain from between his fingers. Michael watched him with a smile, released an appreciative sigh when Gerry continued rubbing circles into his calloused hand, easing the lingering tension from gripping the axe too tight tonight. 

Gerry looked at his relaxed face, the satisfied smile, the long lashes against his cheeks as his eyelids fluttered close. He was beautiful, and Gerry loved him. His grin was wide when he brought Michael’s hand to his lips, brushed them against Michael’s knuckles. 

“What can I say, my love,” Michael’s screwed up his face at the amused tone, and Gerry knew there was probably the beginning of a blush on his cheeks, even though they were already flushed from the bath. Michael never did stop getting flustered at pet names. Gerry snickered. “I’m just hopelessly drawn to danger.”

Michael’s face scrunched up further, one, two seconds, before he opened his eyes with a groan and splashed some of the bathwater at Gerry with his free hand. Gerry laughed, and even thought Michael was keeping his lips in that beautiful, pissed off, thin line, there was mirth in his eyes.

"I will kill you someday." It was a joke, probably, almost definitely, but they both know Michael could, maybe would, and they grinned at each other.

Gerry blew him a kiss. "I love being kept on my toes."

Michael rolled his eyes and pulled him closer, not caring for the water that splashed on the bathroom floor. “Turn around. You really need to wash up.”

Gerry chuckled, but did as told, as best as he could with Michael refusing to let go of his hand. Soon, his back was against Michael’s warm chest and Michael’s fingers in his hair, and Gerry closed his eyes with a blissful sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a moment of silence for Michael's eyebrows. They never had much of a visible presence, but shall be missed.


End file.
